


Domesticated Animal

by Queenofthebees



Series: A-Z Kinks collaboration [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dark Jon Snow, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Exposure, F/M, Forced Nudity, I will bend this letter to my will, Murder, Nipple Play, Possessive Jon Snow, Seduction, Teasing, but it's Xposure that is the main one, exposure kink, hehe see what I did there, slight virginity kink as well I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: Sansa whined, her feet tugging at her bonds in an attempt to preserve her modesty, her pretty face flushed all over. Jon took a calm sip of his ale, eyes still fixed on that sweet treasure between her legs. He hasn't claimed it yet, but he will. As soon as she begged for him to.He had found little joy in ruling, much less joy in living after the betrayal of his brothers.But taking Catelyn Stark's daughter for his own, spreading her out like a feast to be devoured, was more than enough compensation. And when he finally took her completely, Jon felt that there may be some justice in the world after all.A-Z kink collaboration. X = Xposure (yeah, I know it's cheating but whatever :p)





	Domesticated Animal

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I don't even know for this one *shrugs*

When she had heard that Jon had reclaimed Winterfell, nothing could have described her joy. Finally, she would reunite with a family member. She would be  _home._  She would be _safe._ Neither Petyr nor Harry would ever touch her so long as she was by Jon's side, within the strong walls of Winterfell. 

_He's my brother. He'll keep me safe._

Seeing him in the great hall, perched so stiffly upon her father's chair had not made her pause. In fact, she had thought that he looked as though he was meant to be there, observing them all, waiting to make his move. And, she had no reason to suspect anything was amis with him when he stood and walked purposely towards her, eyes dark and intense on her face as though staring deep into her soul and wrapped his arms around her. He had pulled her so tight against him the air had rushed out of her lungs and she struggled to breathe. But she buried closer to him regardless, ignoring the rumble in his throat that should have been a clear warning.

"Who are these people, sweet sister?" he murmured into her temple.

"Lord Baelish acted as my father. He intends for me to marry Harry, the man beside him."

"He sold you?" Jon snarled. Sansa remained silent, aware everyone was watching them. Jon's hand was firm on her back. "Did you agree?"

"Jon please," she hissed.

He had removed himself from her, sending a sharp glare to the two men behind her.

_He's my brother. He'll keep me safe._

She had been wrong though, so terribly wrong.

Oh, Jon protected her well enough when he slit Petyr's throat before he had even finished introducing himself. He had protected her honour shoved Harry up against the wall, his face completely void of emotion as he watched Harry clutch and choke beneath him. It could not have been any clearer that Jon was no longer her brother. He was barely 'Jon', nothing like she remembered him.

He had spared Harry, cutting his cheek as a warning, so deep it would leave a hideous scar. 

"Come, sister."

She had followed him dutifully, her chest tight against her dress as she walked. Jon strode purposely ahead, down one corridor and then turning along another and Sansa tried to keep up while also attempting to take in the changes of her childhood home. There were some doors with fire marks and others completely smashed in. The walls were decorated in black, a decor she suspected Jon had chosen himself rather than the Boltons. 

"Jon, I..."

"Your Grace," he corrected smoothly, turning sharply and making Sansa collide with his chest. He tilted her chin up, a gentle touch at odds with his violence in the hall. "You know your courtesies my dear Sansa."

"Your Grace," she uttered prettily, closing her eyes as she felt her lip tremble, giving away her fear. She squeaked as Jon's thumb traced the shape of her mouth.

"Do I frighten you?"

"Yes, Your Grace," she replied, forcing her eyes open again. Jon frowned.

"I will never hurt you Sansa," he whispered, his hand fitting around her hip with a possessive pull. "And nobody else will either. I swear, I'll kill anyone who comes near you!"

Sansa forced her face to remain blank, despite the confession making her insides twist. Petyr had been a manipulative man, uncaring of who he destroyed for his own gain. She had no illusions that he would have used her too, he had already sold her to Harry after all. But to kill him without trial, that wasn't the Stark way. The Jon she had known would strive to follow in Ned Stark's footsteps. The disregard for one of father's basic morals scared her. What else would he disregard?

"You always wanted a knight, didn't you?"

_You're no true knight._

"You are kind, Your Grace," she murmured with perfectly forced grace.

His eyes flitted over her face and she knew he could detect her lie. But he remained silent. Her brief second of relief was shattered as he took her wrist, pulling her along the hallway after him along another corridor. And then, he was stopping again, in the hall where the bedchambers were. She frowned as he opened the door to her mother's chambers, a small pat on her back guiding her over the threshold.

She turned to him. "Your Grace?"

"You're the Lady of Winterfell now. You should have your mother's chambers."

Walking towards the bed, she let her fingers trace the shape of the post, the direwolf etched on the top. She sat on the furs, silently taking in her bare surroundings, wondering if anything of her mother's remained or if Ramsay had plundered all the rooms for trinkets and treasures.

She startled as Jon sat beside her, her body rigid as he leaned in close, inhaling deeply. The action made her blush though she couldn't understand why, the heat intensifying when she heard Jon's contented hum. His nose nuzzled at her temple, like a wolf scented their mate.

"I am tired, Your Grace," she said quickly, standing and walking away from him. She spun around quickly again, forcing a calm smile. "Will you call me to break fast with you in the morning?"

"Aye," he answered after a long pause, standing as well. He took her hand, kissing the top sweetly.

She watched him go, not realisng she had been holding her breath and gripping the windowsill until she had released a long exhale and dropped her hands when he closed the door. 

***

His gaze followed her everywhere she went, like a predator watching their prey.

It should make her retreat away, cower in fear of what it meant. But she supposed she was still that stupid little girl who wanted to believe the best in people. So, she had allowed him to close in on her, sit beside her far closer than was proper. She would remain perfectly still as his fingertips traced her hand with a gentle lover's caress before his palm would squeeze her thigh in a possessive grip. And Sansa thought vaguely, that she had spent too much time with Cersei, had learned too many things from her after all. Because instead of horror and repulsion, she only felt a deep need to have him not just look and touch her but  _claim_ her. The thought had made her retreat to her chambers and hide under her covers where she sobbed at her shameful realisation.

And Jon knew, of course he did.

She remained under her covers when she heard her door open, tensing when she heard the lock click and his boots striding purposely on the floor.

"There is no shame in wanting things Sansa," he murmured, his hand stroking the length of her body over the covers. She shivered, burying her head further against the pillow as she felt herself throb between her legs. "We need to  _take_ what we want in this world sweetling."

"Jon, we can't!" she hissed, lifting the covers to glare at him. 

He smirked, his hand tracing the curve of her cheek, his thumb stroking her lips. Her cheeks flushed as his eyes darkened, fixed on her mouth and she felt her lips part of their own accord. The heat intensified, the feeling spreading across her whole face as he slipped the tip of his thumb between her parted lips.

"Good girl."

She whined, horrified at the noise and the way Jon grinned, as though he had found some great treasure. Perhaps he had, she thought as she remained still, letting him moved his thumb in and out in slow strokes, his breathing heavy. She didn't know what was happening, why he seemed so fascinated with the action but she was aware that there was something darker at play, she just couldn't figure out what.

"Has anyone ever had your mouth?" he asked suddenly, removing his thumb. Sansa frowned in confusion.

"A kiss?"

Jon smirked. "No." He shook his head, smile still in place. "Never mind sweetheart, I know the answer to that now."

Sansa nodded, not sure what else she could say. His gaze roamed over her hungrily and despite still being in her dress, she felt naked under his intense stare and lowered her eyes. Only, she then felt his hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up slowly.

"And your maidenhead?"

She flushed, unsure of what to do except shake her head only to stammer out when Jon frowned. "I...I'm still a maid!"

"Good," he groaned, his hand dropping to her neck, lingering over the flesh for a moment before dropping to her shoulder. "I have an important announcement to make tomorrow but you should know first, considering it is concerning you."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"I am not Ned Stark's son but Lyanna's. Rhaegar Targaryen was my father. Now, the lords don't like Targaryens, they'll stab me like my brothers did as soon as they get the chance," he scoffed, scowling at the wall for a moment. Sansa remained silent, wondering where the conversation was going. Jon's gaze returned to hers, the hunger back again. "And that is where you come in sweetling."

"You want my claim," she muttered dully. Of course he did, like all other men before him.

"No," he whispered against her ear as he leaned in close. "You can keep Winterfell as is your birthright. I only want to claim you."

_The best weapon is between your legs, learn how to use it._

If Jon were preoccupied with her, then he wouldn't hurt anyone else, would he? And if she could give him a son, perhaps he would soften again, become more of who he had been before. It was a slim chance, she knew. But she had to try. 

"When will we be married?" she asked, mustering all the hope she had once felt when she was told she would be going south to marry Prince Joffrey.

"Two nights from now," he replied, finally standing from the bed. "I have a dress I want you to wear for the betrothal feast tomorrow. Although you will have to wear a shawl or something over it." 

Sansa felt her nose scrunch in confusion but merely uttered her thanks for his gift.

***

The shawl was bunched tightly in her hands, pressed firmly against the base of her neck to prevent it from falling. Luckily, with the cold winds still howling outside, nobody questioned why she was covering such a beautiful dress. Sansa felt as though her flushed cheeks would be more suspicious, if not for the fact Jon had announced their intention to marry and she could blame her heated face on the excitement of her upcoming marriage and the flow of wine.

Not because the dress that Jon had gifted her had a halterneck to hold up the flimsy material around her generous chest, the material lying flat between her breasts and thus leaving them exposed beneath her shawl.

Jon had come to her chambers once she had the dress on, dismissing the chambermaid with a gruff voice. Sansa had lifted her hands, folding her arms over her breasts instinctively. And Jon had tutted, tugging her arms down before circling around her slowly. His hands had grasped her shoulders, stroking soothingly before one had drifted down, down,  _down_.

She had jerked as his hand covered her breast, giving a soft squeeze. He had made a humming sound in his throat, one she later realised was approval. But while her breasts had been exposed to men before, none had ever touched them naked before. His hand was warm against them, his gentle caresses and gropes stoking a curious desire in her. And when his thumb flicked across her nipple, she had arched automatically, gasping in shock of the pleasure. She had felt Jon smirk against her neck, his thumbs pressing against both nipples simultaneously, rubbing in slow, gentle circles until they hardened, turning from a maiden's pink to a dark wanton red. 

He had retreated from them directly, stroking beneath her hardened buds and somehow that felt even more stimulating than her nipples, making her squirm in his arms.

"From now on, your tits are mine to do as I please with," he had growled.

"Yes Your Grace," she had gasped, biting back a shameful moan as he pinched his thumbs and forefingers over her nipple, rolling them between the pads. "Oh, oh!"

"That's it," he had cooed, licking along her neck as she tilted it back submissively, pushing her breasts into his skilled hands as a result.

He had then turned her suddenly, his head dropping down and she had cried out as his lips closed tightly over her right nipple, suckling her eagerly while his finger and thumb continue to play with the other. Her hands had flown into his hair, pressing him closer to all but shove her breast into his mouth. She had felt him smirk against her, giving a long groan of approval at her desperation. If Sansa hadn't been so caught up in the pleasure, she would have been mortified at the way she was acting.

"When you wear this dress now, you'll think of this," he had groaned before he had blown over her wet nipple, making her arch towards him and moan with frantic need.

He had spun her around again, his hands squeezing her generous curves before he gripped both of her nipples again, alternating between stroking and pinching them until Sansa had felt her legs shaking, her mouth falling open as moan after filthy moan escaped her. Jon kissed up her neck, whispering what a good girl she was, how she should embrace her pleasure with him as she was overcome with indescribable bliss.

"Put your shawl on," he had commanded as he stepped back, eyes roving over her with a satisfied gleam although Sansa certainly hadn't felt attractive with her red, sweating face. "You only expose yourself for me."

"Of course, Your Grace," she had murmured dutifully.

And now she was sitting here, a throbbing need in the sweet place between her thighs as she thought of Jon touching her breasts, wondering what it would be like when he touched her  _there_. 

"What filthy thoughts is my queen thinking of?" he murmured, startling her as his breath hit her cheek.

"Our wedding night," she replied honestly, watching his eyebrows raise. She licked her lips, willing her blush to disappear. "Will it feel like that when you take me there?"

"I'm not taking you on our wedding night," he retorted stretching across her for the flagon of wine. Sansa blinked, her brow creasing in confusion.

"But, I...I should be bedded."

"I don't want to take you," he replied, looking into his cup as though that was far more interesting to him than taking her maidenhead. And then he glanced up, his spare hand moving to tuck a hair behind her ear, the gentle gesture making her shiver. "I want you to give yourself to me."

"But, as your wife..."

"I'll receive your precious maidenhead someday sweetling," he whispered, smirking when she flushed harder still. He leaned forward to nip her ear. "I'll receive them all, believe me. But you'll have to want for me to have them before I do."

"All?" she questioned, frowning when Jon's smirk merely grew.

"Your innocence is such a sweet thing in this world my darling," he murmured, returning his gaze to his wine.

***

He grinned in satisfaction as he entered his solar to find Sansa there as commanded, wearing the blue dress that exposed her tits as he had also commanded. Despite having exposed her breasts multiple times to his gaze and his hungry touch, she still blushed furiously as he licked his lips upon seeing them bared, free to do what he wanted with them.

He had meant it when he had told her that he wanted her to give herself to him, to show him that she wanted him to have her maidenhead, that she wanted him to give her pleasure and touch her where no other man has, or ever will so long as he lived. Still, though vowing not to claim her maidenhead before she gives it, that didn't mean he couldn't have a look at her sweet cunt.

Her eyes widened as he retrieved the ropes and he nodded towards the bed. Like the obedient girl she was, she sat down and awaited his command. He nodded in approval, pushing her down gently and pulling her arms up above her head. He tied her wrists separately with bits of rope, stretching the bonds to the top and bottom bedposts respectively. 

He smirked as he tied her ankles, tugging the end of the rope to the remaining bedposts before he stepped back and admiring her prone body and, he licked his lips at the sight, her exposed sex. It was as tempting as he had imagined, the pink exposed with her spread legs, the slight glisten of wetness clear in the dim candlelight. Her gaze found his, questions forming in her eyes, no doubt wondering if he meant to take her after all. He gave her a small shake of his head.

"I merely like working with a nice view, sweetling," he whispered, walking towards his desk and sitting down.

Sansa whined, her feet tugging at her bonds in an attempt to preserve her modesty, her pretty face flushed all over. Jon took a calm sip of his ale, eyes still fixed on that sweet treasure between her legs. He hasn't claimed it yet, but he will. As soon as she begged for him to.

He had found little joy in ruling, much less joy in living after the betrayal of his brothers.

But taking Catelyn Stark's daughter for his own, spreading her out like a feast to be devoured, was more than enough compensation. And when he finally took her completely, Jon felt that there may be some justice in the world after all.


End file.
